I walked along the frozen pathway
That led me past the deserted park.
The grass was still flecked by the sprinkles of snow
Where the light never reached
And it dwelt in the darkest of shadows.
The winter’s sun hung low within the sky
Climbing barely above the suburban rooftops,
Yet it was still warm enough
To thaw the thinnest layer of frost
That had glazed the land during the night.
I passed the sticks of sharpened hawthorn
That hung leafless,
And bereft of life,
Drooping through the rusty red railings
That once marked the boundary of the old school field.
Yet deep inside that tangled mass
Of needled wood,
And camouflaged with cloaks of brown
The sparrows had gathered
And sweetly they sang through the morn.
